


Seasons

by sgtfarron



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Somewhat, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgtfarron/pseuds/sgtfarron
Summary: Years after the fourth great shinobi war, Konoha had settled and most of her citizens had begun to heal and move forward. Healing looks differently for some, a little less linear.Sakura struggles to find inner-peace in the post-war calm.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Seasons

Deep breath in, hold – out. Repeat.

You have to fight to hold yourself still, unsteady hands and an unclear mind had no place in the world of shinobi. Your life, other people’s lives depended on this fact every single day.

Deep Breath in, hold – out. Repeat.

This is how she finds you: sat on the floor, back leaning against the small cot in the on-call room you had ducked into, head down and hands clenching and unclenching slowly. In your haste you hadn’t bothered with the light.

Your shift had to have ended a few hours ago so you couldn’t begin to guess how she knew that you hadn’t gone home yet.

“Sakura?” Her voice is soft, hesitant. If you hadn’t already walked yourself back from the spiral you had been on you probably would have missed it. You’re not ready to look at her yet so you don’t, but you stop moving your hands, a silent acknowledgment of her presence. You feel a growing emptiness in your chest.

Ino takes a seat at your side, hand coming to rest on your arm. You will always be grateful that after everything, the two of you found each other again. No one has ever been able to get under your skin or into your heart quite like her, even if you’ve never found a way to tell her so.

* * *

When winter comes to Konoha, some years it comes in hard. For as hot as the summers can be the winters can be just as harsh. This year, a deep chill has rolled in and refuses to budge.

So, you would think you would be forgiven for indulging in a few or five drinks. Just a way to warm up a bit before heading home. Apparently, Ino does not see it that way.

“Sakura…” Her voice is impatient. The bartender who had been so kindly keeping your glass full was now conveniently making himself discrete.

You feel your mood darken. You didn’t want to see her if she was just here to pick a fight.

“What do you want, Ino?”

“Lets get you home, Sakura.”

You almost scoff, but you don’t, you bite your tongue because somewhere in the back of your mind you know she doesn’t deserve it. You do roll your eyes though, because old habits dies hard.

When your hand reaches to pour another cup, her hand catches yours. After a few moments your hand shakes and its enough to bring out your anger in earnest. You snatch your hand away easily enough and push to stand, a little surprised at how unsure your footing is for a moment, but from the look on Ino’s face she isn’t. So, maybe, you had just stopped counting after five.

Her eyes are like fire on your skin and you don’t give her a chance to say anything more before you have thrown some Ryo down on the counter and snatched the bottle, turning and stomping out into the night.

You tell yourself that it’s just the cold that is making your whole body shake.

Deep breath in, hold – out. Repeat.

By the time you’re back at your apartment Ino is still on your heels, letting herself in after you.

“Sakura, I think we need to talk.” The sound of the door closing behind her is loud in the stillness of your apartment.

You ignore her though and continue towards your bathroom, shedding your coat and throwing it the general direction of your couch as you go. You don’t close the door behind you.

Your hands find the edges of the sink and as you chance a look at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but feel like it’s groundhogs day. How many times had you been here, having this conversation? Or rather, avoiding it?

“It’s not that simple,” you find yourself calling out – Ino hadn’t said anything but you know what she wants to say, what she has tried to say before, “I don’t know what you want from me.” A lie.

The silence stretches out after that. If you didn’t have the senses of a hardened shinobi you would have thought you were the only soul in the apartment. After a few minutes Ino must give up on you, you think, as you hear the front door open and close with a loud thud leaving you alone for real.

When you gather your nerves and finally exit the bathroom you are surprised by the white envelope left on your kitchen island. When you open the envelope a folded sheet of tissue paper slides out onto the counter and, as you unfold it, you find three perfectly pressed azalea blossoms – not a petal out of place. Your ability to remember the language of flowers was never that great, but the recognition triggers something in you and you begin to feel a warmth start to fill the hollow place in your chest.

The bottle you took from the bar sits forgotten on the counter.

* * *

You awake to the warmth of sunlight on your face and a lone bird chirping not far from your window. It’s a deceptive warmth you know – simply amplified by passing through your window. The outside air would not yet be quite as inviting, but you will take what you can get.

Two years since the war ended and six months since you had been out of work. When the shake in your hands and fog in your mind became too much you took leave from the hospital and requested to be taken off of any active rosters until you felt – in your medical opinion – fit for duty. It had been two years where everyone around you had worked themselves back from broken versions of themselves to happy and healing. You managed to do the exact opposite. You started falling apart at the seams.

Ino tried to explain it to you once, in the beginning, that it was only normal that you would be struggling now that you didn’t have nearly as many distractions. After the war you had thrown yourself fully into the reconstruction efforts for the village and the hospital, overseeing the coordination of care for all the injured returning shinobi and the on boarding of new medics to ensure the village had a robust medic division going into the future. You could concede that you had been very busy, but it did not make sense to you that now that everything was okay and finally the village felt stabilized that you would feel like the ground was dropping out from under you with every step. You were supposed to be happy.

Ino said you hadn’t had time to process, to grieve; you didn’t say anything further on the subject.

You take a deep breath and for the first time in a long time you feel like you’re not fighting for air.

Spring time in Konoha is a beautiful thing.

It’s a Tuesday morning which means that the Yamanaka flower shop will be run by Mr. Tashadi. The two of you have an agreement that he wouldn’t tell Ino about your recent visits.

The bell above the door signals your arrival.

“Ah, good morning, Sakura.”

“Tashadi,” you take a few steps toward the counter, “it is good to see you.”

“Are you planning to buy something today? Anything I can help you find?” His words are not unkind. You have been in the shop about a half a dozen times in recent weeks and had yet to make a purchase. You let him know that you would know it when you saw it, but that wasn’t exactly true. You had a plan, but had not had the courage to follow through.

Until now.

“Actually, maybe you can. Do you have any hyacinth in bloom? Preferably in blue?” Tadashi tilts his head to the side slightly, thinking it over.

“You know what, I think we might just have what you are looking for. Give me a few minutes to check in the back.”

You watch him leave through the door behind the counter that exits into the large attached green house where the Yamanakas propagated their plants year round. You spent enough time here as a little girl to know where the hyacinth were kept. You also know that while the heated greenhouse allowed for continued growing throughout the year, the hyacinth were a part of a rotation of blossoms that were maintained on their natural cycle. They would have started to come in a few weeks ago.

Tadashi returns a few minutes later with five small nursery pots, two in hand and three cradled in his arm.

“We have quite a few that are doing great! I grabbed all I could hold. I forgot to ask how many you might be looking for?”

You apologize quickly, but can’t help the large smile that comes to your face as you think about how perfect the flowers look.

“Just three, a small bouquet is all. And a note card if you have one.”

After the flowers are paid for you make your way towards the Konoha Intelligence Division building. The receptionist greets you kindly as the guards let you pass without question.

Once on the third floor, you pass a familiar young intern, Ani, who smiles as you approach.

“If you’re looking for Yamanaka-san, she just stepped out. She should be back soon.”

Perfect.

You thank her and quicken your pace, hoping to reach Ino’s office before she returns. You find the door left open, evidence that Ino was indeed expecting to only be stepping away for a few minutes tops.

You summon your courage and step inside, gently setting the small bouquet on her desk and taking a step back. Suddenly, you are starting to regret the light gossamer ribbon, as it was starting to appear more and more tacky by the second.

As your mind starts to race, you begin to lose your nerve and panic that Ino could step in any second and you contemplate exiting from the window – as if that wouldn’t draw more attention to yourself, but the prospect of running into her right now almost pushes you to it. Instead, you control that impulse and quickly and as quietly as possible back into the hallway and make your leave, utilizing an oft-unused stairwell and make your way to the nearest exit.

* * *

In the few months that followed, Ino not once mentioned the anonymous flowers that have been appearing from time to time. You had continued to leave her flowers: orange gerbera, lily of the valley, clippings of fuchsia blossoms, purple pansies and once when you were feeling particularly bold, an orchid. Anytime you felt that hollow place in your chest swell with affection, overflowing with gratefulness for her.

In all the years you had known her, Ino never shied away from gossiping and confiding in you all the passing bouts of attention and affection she received from anyone and everyone. She always preened under the spotlight, so you could be a little forgiven for being surprised that she hadn’t said a word to you about a possible secret admirer.

Recently, you have slowly been coming back out of your shell, seeking out time with her again rather than having her have to find you in a bad way. Ino, with all the tact of a lifelong friend, picked up right where you had left things off – meeting you where you’re at and not holding the hard times against you.

Your heart skips a beat again at the thought of her.

The silence on the subject is what has compelled you to take this step. You had been hoping to get some indication of what she was thinking first, but you had no such luck. If she had given any word that she didn’t like the flowers or that it was bothering her in someway, you would have stopped. You wouldn’t be here, about to possibly make a fool of yourself.

So it is with bated breath you wait for Ino in the back of this café, tucked away in a corner booth, a small bunch of flowers out of sight at your side.

The tap you feel on your shoulder nearly causes you to jump out of your skin. Some shinobi you are, getting so lost in thought she managed to sneak up on you even though you were expecting her. Annoyance at yourself starts to bubble up before you push it down. You remind yourself that it’s a process, forgiving yourself for your perceived short comings. Making your way back.

“Hey Ino, how are you?”

Ino deftly side steps the topic of your obvious annoyance, giving you an easy smile as she takes a seat across from you and starts telling you about her week.

You let yourself relax in the easy conversation, mostly listening and adding a short question or comment here or there to keep her talking, flowers almost forgotten where they rest on the bench seat beside you. Almost. That is, until the conversation turns to you, what you have been up to.

You pause, not sure what to say.

“Hello, forehead?” A beat. “Earth to Sakura, you still here?” The question is asked in jest, but with a mild undercurrent of concern.

It was now or never.

In a flash the flowers are in front of her – a modest bunch of white petunias and red cosmos – it probably wasn’t a beautiful bouquet, but you hoped it got your point across. As young kids, Ino almost had you convinced that you had some degree of color blindness, because apparently every arrangement you tried to make was too gaudy or clashed in some unsightly way. From then on you let her work on mastering the art form while you worried about just trying to remember what they all meant.

All you can think to say is, “For you.”

When she laughs, it strikes you harder than you would admit. Of all the reactions you anticipated, that was not on the list. For all her faults and the many shapes your relationship had taken over the years, she had never been _cruel._

You begin to draw your hand back, but she catches your wrist. She seems to have registered your shift in mood as she begins to walk back her reaction and it’s a miracle you don’t bolt out of your seat, not wanting to hear what she is about to say now.

“Oh no – I’m not laughing at –” she shakes her head, eyes lowering to the bouquet in front of her, “Honey, they’re beautiful” she says, but you don’t register the gentle reverence in her voice.

You don’t know what more to say, but you feel like you owe it to her to come clean about the other flowers, too.

“It was me,” you start, turning your head away to look out the window at the passersby, “That left the other flowers recently. I don’t know… I just feel like you should know.”

You feel a light squeeze on your wrist and you look back at her. You see that she is clearly trying to repress a laugh again and your eyes narrow, about to tell her off when she stops you.

“I know,” is what she says instead, and she must see the confusion on your face as she continues, after letting a small giggle escape, “Sakura, you left a note with the hyacinth. You have had the same text book, too perfect, type-written style handwriting since we were at the academy. I’ve never known anyone else who writes like that.”

You feel embarrassment start to burn your cheeks. All this time she knew and she just let you continue on, for what? You knew leaving a note was a bad idea. All the note said was ‘thank you’, but that was clearly enough to give you away.

You watch her free hand gently ease the bouquet from your clenched fist and bring it to her face, taking a deep breath, a gentle smile returning to her face. She must realize that you don’t plan on saying anything further so she speaks, so quiet you almost miss it, “I am glad you told me, thank you.”

The sincerity you hear in her voice is enough to let your defenses lower, the tension beginning to seep from your shoulders. Is that a blush you see starting to rise on her cheeks? The hand that had been wrapped around your wrist has slid down and was now holding your hand, thumb drawing small circles idly as her eyes remain on the flowers.

After a short time you ease back into casual conversation, letting the brief awkwardness fall away. Ino’s hand stays in yours, steady, and you can’t help but lean into the the warmth that fills you.

Your world feels like it’s righting itself; this feels like healing.

**Author's Note:**

> Language of flowers, in the order they appear:
> 
> Azalea: _temperance, take care of yourself for me, fragility_  
>  -  
> Blue Hyacinth: _constancy, sincerity_  
>  -  
> Orange Gerbera: _you are my sunshine, patience_  
>  Lily of the Valley: _return of happiness, sweetness, humility, purity_  
>  Fuchsia: _humble love, confiding love_  
>  Purple Pansies: _you occupy my thoughts_  
>  Orchid: _love, beauty, refinement, beautiful lady_  
>  -  
> Red Cosmos: _love and harmony_  
>  Petunias: _your presence soothes me_


End file.
